


Boot Kink for Sin

by BrightneeBee, Draughtofpeace, jalapeno_eye_popper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boot Worship, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Potions Accident, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightneeBee/pseuds/BrightneeBee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draughtofpeace/pseuds/Draughtofpeace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_eye_popper/pseuds/jalapeno_eye_popper
Summary: A potions accident results in a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor cleaning up the mess that splattered on her teacher's boot. One-shot PWP. A gift for severusmysin from the Page394 SSHG Discord server, as a response to a prompt/request for boot kink, co-written by jalapeno_eye_popper, Draughtofpeace, and BrightneeBee.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79
Collections: Page 394 Discord Collection





	Boot Kink for Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [severusmysin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/severusmysin/gifts).



It started with a potions accident that knocked her on her arse. Smarting physically with the fresh bruise, and emotionally with the classmates laughing at her, Hermione rubbed her sore bottom and stared at the floor while she caught her breath.

A pair of boots stepped into her line of sight, and she suddenly felt breathless again.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Well that was expected, but the way she couldn't take her eyes off those boots... that was a little more surprising.

“It serves you right for assisting Longbottom and disattending your own brew,” Snape continued while looming over Hermione, a scowl dressing his face. He stepped forward and stopped until his foot rested between her legs, the sole pressing over the hem of her skirt. Just as she shifted backwards and attempted to get up, he whispered dangerously “Don’t move."

Dark robes had gathered around her, covering her feet, resting against her shins. She could feel the warmth of his body and the texture of his cloak, coarse and cold, like the eyes that bore down upon her. The aroma of burnt sage emanating from the material. Hermione’s eyes shifted to the foot resting in between her legs and she could feel a hot flush take over her face and chest. Snape’s boots had been recently polished, the black dragonhide glistened in the dim lighting of the dungeons, except for tip, which was now tarnished with green ooze. Her botched brew. “Clean it, Miss. Granger” Snape said deliberately while holding his hands behind his back, an eyebrow inching its way up his forehead. 

Body reacting to the sotto timbre of his voice, authoritative with no room for disobedience, Hermione’s cunt clenched as her gloved fingertips pressed firmly against the supple hide of his boot. 

She wiped away as much green sludge as she could before ripping the potions gloves from her hands. 

Then she slid across the gritty stone floor until her skirt was bunched between her thighs, and the tip of Professor Snape’s boot was pressed snugly against her slick knickers. She reached for a handkerchief tucked in the pocket of her robes, ready to shine her professor’s boot. 

Whatever possessed her to do it, she assumed she’d never know. 

Hermione cradled Snape’s ankle, and lifted his foot up the length of her body. 

The sole swiped over aching pussy, and then Snape’s leg went rigid. Immovable. 

And the handkerchief was gone from her hand.

"Class is dismissed." Snape announced, slowly forcing his foot back down between Hermione's spread legs. The toe of it planted firmly up against her knickers. Then he snapped, "Get out!" 

The students wasted no time in grabbing their belongings before racing out the door. 

Magic ripped through the empty classroom, vanishing the simmering cauldrons and slamming the classroom door closed. The echo that followed was punctuated by a click, and the shudder of privacy wards settling in place. All in the span of a minute. 

Snape's hardened gaze hadn't left Hermione's wide, doe eyes. 

"Use your mouth," he purred, dangerously low, " _Miss Granger._ "

“Yes sir, “ Hermione whispered, her lips parting ever so slightly. She barely recognized the sound of her own voice. Her own desire. Her pussy felt so uncomfortably wet and swollen, unlike ever before. How would she ever be able to face Professor Snape again outside of these four walls? 

Leaning forward on her knees, Hermione placed one hand on each side of his boot, her underwear-clad arse beginning to peek from underneath the schoolgirl skirt that clung tightly around the top of her thighs. The dungeon floor felt so brutally cold against her warm skin that she shivered. The girl could not break free from his impassive glare, leaving her feeling as though she had been stripped bare. Hermione’s soft hand traveled over the black hide of his boot and up his ankle, where it finally rested. His body felt hard like stone, unwavering. She dipped her head, honey brown tresses tumbling forward and caressing his boots causing him to snarl in disapproval. “Look at me.”

Tilting her head up to look in his eyes meant taking her own off the shiny curves of his footwear, and she whimpered, biting her lip as she gazed up.

From this angle she could hardly see his eyes clearly anyway, but she suspected he could see hers quite well, and opened them wide so he could see the full circles of her cinnamon irises.

"That's better," he rumbled. "It pleases me when you obey. You are eager to please, are you not, Miss Granger?"

She was panting. When did that start? She nodded.

"Say it," he snapped.

"I am eager to please." She gulped. "Sir."

"Good girl."

Severus Snape had never once praised her before, and now he could never do it again, or she'd jump him, even in the middle of class. The middle of the Great Hall. Anywhere. Everywhere. Her pelvic floor clenched, and her knickers were soaked, and she focused on the feeling where she still held the back of his ankle with her hand.

He slowly lifted his foot, and she saw it coming, in the bottom of her periphery, before he touched the very tip of the toe to her lips, gently wedging between them.

Her body took over, sliding her tongue down under this welcome intrusion. She let out a soft moan. It was hardly half an inch of a rubber sole in her mouth, but he may as well have stuffed himself into her cunt the way her body hummed and her blood rushed in her ears, crying out for more.

She moaned again as she drew her tongue along the rough patterned sole.

Hermione shut her eyes and shut out every other sensation. There was no chilly dungeon floor. There was no pain in her knees. There was no surly Potions Master.

Only his booted foot.

She opened her eyes again when she felt pressure from the leather lifting her up, by the _teeth_ , straightening her spine until her knees made a right angle at the floor. Then he pulled back just a bit, and Hermione whimpered again at the loss of that oral delight.

But she moaned when he planted that boot square in the middle of her chest.

His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder, as he instructed her, "Lean back. Use both hands to hold your ankles."

It was a very vulnerable position, pushing out her chest and exposing her neck, but she was beyond caring. She leaned into it, allowing her bushy hair to fall back past her shoulders, brushing the floor between her own feet.

So she wasn't watching, just feeling, as the hard sole of his boot slid down her body, all the way past the bottom hem of her skirt, and then hooking underneath it and slowly, slowly sliding back up.

When he finally touched the tip to her drenched knickers, she moaned and bucked, and almost lost her balance. She squeezed tighter on her ankles, and she found a rhythm to grind as he pressed harder and harder against her aching pussy.

"Oh!" she cried, shuddering as her orgasm rolled over in waves. Her elbows locked to hold herself upright. Did he know that would happen? Clever bastard. He knew just how to keep her riding his boot until she was utterly spent.

And then it was gone.

She snapped her head up, and he was standing with both feet firmly on the floor, eyes down as he inspected them.

"Well well, Miss Granger. That's one perfectly clean, shiny boot." He smirked. "But all boots come in pairs."


End file.
